In the middle of a battle, in the turmoil of a war
A little sparrow fluttered through the sky.
But a flying piece of debris struck her small brown wing,
And she fell wounded to the ground where she must die.
She was just a small brown sparrow,
No one would notice she was there,
No chance to escape should a march begin,
No one would even care.
Just small brown speckled sparrow,
She lay wounded on the battle field.
While all around her whizzed the bullets,
At any moment to be killed.
Breathless, in a panic,
Barely blinking for the fear,
The crushing blow of a solider’s boot,
She knew it must be near.
The clash and din raged on
The little sparrow lay silent,
Fearing for her life,
For the crossfire hissing through the air,
Would surely take her life.
She was just a wounded sparrow,
A bird with a broken wing
No more to fly to the heights above,
No more to whistle and sing.
Then suddenly a shadow,
In the midst of bullets and bombs,
Appeared over top her,
Blocking out the sun.
Surely she would be stepped on,
Crushed and buried out of sight.
Just a little wounded sparrow,
In the middle of a fight.
But the shadow moved and bent down,
And she saw a gentle man
Pick her up to safety,
In the hollow of his hand.
He took that wounded sparrow
To a place beyond the war,
Where the peace was unbroken
By the clash and din and roar.
There that wounded sparrow
With the broken wing was healed,
Bandaged with love and kindness,
From a gentleman’s tender skills.
Today you can see the little brown sparrow
High again in the air,
Restored and singing once again
From the Good Samaritans loving care.
So when you see her flying,
Remember where she was.
And the reason why she now can sing
Is because of God’s great matchless love.